Her Heart's Desire
by Saran VD
Summary: Helena Ravenclaw looks into the Mirror of Erised. Oneshot. Rating for safety.


**A/N: So this was a contest entry on . The prompt was to write an rp post about any Harry Potter character looking into the mirror of Erised. Posted mainly because I want to know what you all think!**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic...  
Saran VD**

Her Heart's Desire

It started out as idle curiosity. She had drifted into the room, not expecting to see anything she hadn't seen in Hogwarts before. Much to her surprise, she noticed a large and ornate mirror in a corner of the abandoned classroom. Unable to resist, she floated closer, studying her reflection carefully.

It was nothing new for her to be able to see her reflection; she'd been staring at in the mirrors of Hogwarts for centuries. What she saw wasn't the reflection that she was used to. Mirrors merely showed her for who she was: Helena Ravenclaw, not as clever as her mother, but instead aloof, haughty, and transparent. She was used to seeing herself as a ghost. This made her reflection even more unusual in her eyes.

This Helena was standing, with a warm smile on her face, in front of Hogwarts. She was opaque in this image, wearing her mother's silvery diadem upon her head. All around her were people that she couldn't name, but the expression on all their faces was the same: adoration. These nameless people clearly admired something about her. Judging by the fact that several of the people were holding thick books, she guessed that it was her knowledge that they admired so much. Her chest flushed with pride, and she moved closer to the mirror, taking in the image before her. That was when she noticed who her mirror-self was standing beside.

He was tall, and his dirty blonde curls contrasted her own sleek, dark hair. He had a pair of silver spectacles perched on his nose, and there was an air of intelligence about him. His expression was one of doting affection. One of his hands was casually- yet tenderly- wrapped about her waist. Her reflection smiled up at him from time to time, though it took Helena a few moments to realize that it wasn't just her reflection that was giving him such fond looks.

She was transfixed. This man wasn't anyone she knew, but she simultaneously felt as if she knew him very well. In a way, _she did_ know him. Before the Baron had killed her, this other man was the man of her dreams. It was him that she was planning to marry someday, if only she could _find_ him. She couldn't even be sure if he existed.

She reached up and passed her hand through the cheek of her dream man, wishing for the ability to touch just once more, even if it was only to feel the cool glass beneath her fingertips. Even that would make things seem more real. She burned with longing, gazing into the hazel eyes of the man in the mirror. She shook herself and turned her attention to the other people in the mirror- men and women who admired her intelligence- and grinned proudly. It was plain on their faces that they believed that her knowledge was unrivaled, and she realized fully what that meant. She had finally bested her mother.

Helena continued to stare at the image of herself- famous, loved, and more intelligent than her mother- for another forty-five minutes. Finally, she was able to tear her eyes off the image. Her gaze wandered to an inscription above the mirror: erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Her mind worked quickly, hoping for a clue as to why this mirror had shown her all of this. After much thought, she finally got the message of the mirror: _I show not your face but your heart's desire._

Her eyebrows rose, and it all clicked into place. Her eyes drifted back to the mirror, and her smile widened as she took in all that she was seeing. For the first time in centuries, her eyes sparked with something like hope.

The diadem sat upon her reflection's hair, glistening maddeningly, and Helena's face was set in determination. She needed that diadem. If she could just go back to Albania, where the Baron had taken her life, and find a way to put it on, she could have everything she had ever dreamed of.

She turned briskly away from the mirror, having made up her mind. She was heading towards a wall- any wall- that would allow her to find a path out of Hogwarts, but was stopped in the corridor before she could glide through the wall. He was a handsome youth, in his fifth year probably, with black hair and a shrewd expression on his face. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her stop in the middle of her path. "Can I help you?" she asked him, frowning. He was keeping it all away from her. Her destiny was calling. She could have her heart's desire. But he just continued to look at her, as if seeking information that only she could tell him.

There was something about his expression that reminded Helena of the people in the mirror. Like those fictitious people, this dark-haired boy gave her a look that made her feel intelligent. He appeared to believe that her knowledge was unrivaled.

The diadem wasn't the key to her heart's desire; this boy was.

Forgetting her original motive, she turned fully to face the boy and said- more kindly this time- "Can I help you?"


End file.
